Never Had a Storm Like Me
by Lady Androgene
Summary: For Snow757. A series of unrelated 5927/2759 one-shots all in different genres: In order: AU, Crack, Crossover, UST, Fluff, Humor, First Time, Angst, Hurt/Comfort and Smut. Complete.
1. AU

**A/N:** Exchange fic with Snow757, who wrote me D80 and 6927, the KHR ships closest to my heart.:D Based on the 10 genres format, and supposed to interconnect into a one shot, at least before I realized it's sort of impossible to connect crack, AU and crossover with the rest. So those three get entirely separate fics while the rest are interconnected to form a cohesive story. Rating will shift to M later.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own them.

* * *

**1. AU (7YL!27/7YL!Fem!59) **

_She takes one look at the dress offered to her and snorts, going back to her perusal of the latest issue of Scientific American. "You have got to be shitting me."_

_The assistant handing her the apparently offensive clothing shoots Hayato's manager a nervous look and prudently takes a few steps back. _

_Pietro Barone, Gokudera's sixth manager in two years, sighs, and rubs his temples. "Look Hayato, it's not like you'll have to wear it for long."_

"_I'm not wearing it _at all_."_

"_Hayato," Pietro says sternly. "The design for this dress was drawn by the hand of Valentino Garavani himself, before his retirement, and made from the finest silk and—"_

"—_I don't __give a fuck if it's hand sewn by the pope and created from the skins of temple virgins- I'm not wearing that trash."_

"_You don't reject Valentino—"_

"_Fuck Valentino with a fucking violin bow." _

_The collective gasps of horror around the room should've given Gokudera a clue as to the gravity of her transgression, but Gokudera just nonchalantly goes back to her magazine, as if she didn't just insult one of the most legendary names in the history of fashion. _

_Her manager recovers first. "Hayato," he says, voice shaking. "You don't get a say in what you're going to wear, and you don't tell your designers to fuck off- Jesus, have you lost your mind?"_

_Gokudera's smoky green eyes narrow, and she closes her magazine with a decisive snap. "No," she answers coolly, rising up from her seat. "But they—" She points to the antsy crew and the photographer who looks like she's on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "- just lost their model." Then she pivots on her heel and walks away, ignoring Pietro's apoplectic protests, the hostility in her glare affording her a wide berth as she crosses the room. Just before she steps out the door however, she turns around slightly to look at her manager._

"_And you? You just lost your job."_

**o**

Her rebellious glower has graced the cover of every fashion magazine known to man- Vogue, Style, Elle- name it and she's been there. She wears high fashion like second skin and walks like she owns everyone _and _the room. She doesn't need to make love to the camera; the camera begs and grovels for her affection. She is both every photographer's dream and worst nightmare.

She is Hayato Gokudera, also known as Hurricane Bomb by her contemporaries for her devastatingly good looks and the temper that has gained her infamy throughout the world of glamour and catwalks. She lives up to her name, creating discord where she goes: cameras flashing in blinding succession, people tripping over themselves either to wisely get out of her way and admire her from a safe distance, or stupidly get closer and subject themselves to her disdain.

She's disrespectful and arrogant, with serious anger management issues and a potty mouth that can make a sailor blush, unfortunate personality defects that should've gotten her out of the industry long ago, but for some odd reason, has only added more to her appeal. She's a quintessential example of how fashion is willing to disregard sense and logic, in favour of beauty and the classic and forever inexplicable _je ne sais quoi._

**o**

"_Hey- what the hell, did you just rearrange the lights of my set-up?"_

"_I've already considered the individual positions of your equipment, the diffusion levels of your chosen light ratio, the size of your soft box and the brightness output of your strobes and have thus calculated the optimal arrangement to bring out the colour and shape of this Dolce & Gabbana original," Gokudera replies, gesturing absently at her ensemble, a vivid red, strapless sheath gown with intricate Swarovski crystal detail, that naturally fell on her body on all the right places._

"_But—"_

"_Also I have no bad angles," she interrupts, impatience seeping in her tone. She crosses her long legs, tosses her head to let her silver hair cascade down one shoulder, and casts her latest photographer a haughty, sideways glance. "Now shoot or get out."_

**o**

She poses for many, but she smiles for one alone.

* * *

Tsunayoshi Sawada, Tsuna for short, and professional photographer by trade, takes a few test shots with his new 1.8 aperture 50 mm lens, checks the instant feedback on the LCD screen, and then adjusts his shutter speed.

Across the room from him, seated in a bar stool in his humble studio apartment, is none other than _the_ Hayato Gokudera.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she asks, stretching as she tugs the overly large polo down in a half-hearted attempt at modesty. Which is sort of a moot point, as she's not wearing any pants, not that Tsuna's complaining. "I mean, I could wear something from the Chanel shoot if I knew you wanted to take pictures."

"It's fine," Tsuna says, and presses the shutter just in time to capture Hayato looking at him from underneath her long lashes, chin propped under one hand, the dress shirt slipping past one shoulder, carelessly beautiful. "It's an impromptu thing after all; I didn't even bring my tripod."

"Good, because I like your clothes," Hayato says, wrapping her arms around herself, as if to illustrate her point. "They're comfortable. And they smell like you."

Tsuna chuckles, and takes another shot. "And you look better in them than I do," he teases, as he looks at the latest picture on the screen approvingly. His intuition is right, this particular afternoon has the perfect natural light, and the setting sun casts a soft glow around Hayato's slim frame.

Hayato's cheeks flush pink from the praise, and she almost looks shy when she smiles at him. Tsuna ducks his head and smiles back. God. Five years together and he still behaves like a high school girl with a crush.

Five years. Even now, it still boggles his mind that the world's most sought-after model is still so tirelessly devoted to him, since he took his first picture of her and submitted it in his portfolio. Now, she's a supermodel of the highest calibre, while he's still struggling to create a name for himself.

Funny how the world works. Five years ago, Hayato was a nobody, a scrawny teenager who ran away from home and tried to steal Tsuna's newly purchased Nikon D300, as he was walking out the shop. Her escape plan was foiled when she slammed against another pedestrian as she was crossing the road, and she chose to protect the camera with her arms and fall down rather than drop it and run free.

She didn't see the truck.

But Tsuna did.

He lost a very good and expensive camera that day, but what he gained is something beyond price.

"What do you want me to do?" Hayato asks, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, in a rare display of self-consciousness.

Tsuna stretches across the couch, and holds the camera at a slightly tilted angle. "Surprise me."

Hayato thinks for a moment, one slender finger poised between her lips, and Tsuna's immediately takes another shot. After a few moments, she uncrosses her legs and gets down from her seat with effortless grace. She saunters towards Tsuna, and just the way she walks- deliberate, unhurried, each step smoothly rippling from her feet to her shoulders- exudes pure temptation.

And _then_ her hands reach up to unbutton the shirt slowly, one by one.

Tsuna's mouth runs dry, as heat flares up deep in his belly, but his hands are steady as he snaps away.

_Click. Click. Click._ Hayato takes her time, and Tsuna captures it all: the sway in her gait, the willowy flutter of the shirt around her hips, the stream of sunlight reflecting off her hair.

Tsuna sucks in a shuddering breath as the last of the buttons is freed, and the shirt opens fully to bare herself to him, and he can only think of one word: Perfect.

He doesn't get to take another shot, because the camera is no longer in his grasp, Hayato's smooth hands placing it carefully back into its case, in the correct order- lens first, then body.

Then she looks back at Tsuna, her eyes carrying the sort of hopeful playfulness that other photographers would kill to capture on film, and shrugs off the rest of the polo to drop to a heap at her feet.

Unable to help himself any longer, Tsuna reaches out, slides his hands along the curve of her hips, and pulls her possessively closer. He skims the tip of his nose along the smooth, taut skin of her stomach, inhaling her shower-fresh scent, as his thumb traces the small scar along the crest of her hipbones, from that fateful near-accident long ago. He wonders for the hundredth time how he could be so lucky.

"I hope you don't do this with all your photographers," he whispers, when Hayato takes a step back to bend down and cup his face in her hands.

"Never. Only you," she replies and kisses him.

~fin~

* * *

**Post A/N: **I didn't bother to change Gokudera's first name because it really has no bearing fic-wise. Similarly, I used the western way of introduction (First name before Surname) as this fic takes place in the Western hemisphere.

This marks many firsts for me- first 5927, first gender bender, and first AU. Also, romance and fluff are **not** my strong suits so any feedback with how I did with this will be greatly appreciated. :D

Next up, the genre I'm most at home with: Crack


	2. Crack

**2. Crack (2759, 2795. 12YL)  
**

***Note: **This one-shot has been expanded into a much longer fic, which can be found in my AO3. Title is **SPF15 (is not enough)**. Just click on my profile for the link to my account. :)

* * *

He's not supposed to be doing this. He has a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, and a brother-in-law who will beat the shit out of him for hurting his little sister, boss or not. So what if this mission is extended a month longer than usual; he's not Mukuro, he can survive a few weeks without hearing imaginary mating calls.

Apparently not, because here Gokudera is, kneeling between Tsuna's legs and undoing his fly, looking like a kid who's about to open his first ever Christmas present—and Tsuna is just sitting there, letting him, despite the myriad reasons why this is a horrifically bad idea.

The feel of Gokudera's long, elegant fingers gripping his thighs vehemently argues this point though. Really, at his core, Sawada Tsunayoshi is still a man underneath, with needs and sporadic tendencies to let his other head do the thinking.

Besides, they're in the penthouse of the most expensive hotel in Monte Carlo, having just finished concluding a top secret negotiation on box weapons that even the Foundation's far-reaching intelligence has not yet tapped. What's the worst that could happen?

Of course, like clockwork, Murphy responds swiftly and with much enthusiasm in the form of Tsuna's supposedly locked hotel room opening with an ominous creak.

"Tsu-kun, thank goodness I found you—Oh."

Tsuna's world crashes down on him, and he and Gokudera practically catapult themselves away from each other- Tsuna landing on the other side of the bed, and Gokudera plastering himself against the wall. "Kyoko, this really isn't what it looks—" Tsuna babbles reflexively, before catching the shock in Kyoko's eyes in the dim light, and he shuts up, silently pleading with the universe for lightning to strike him where he stands instead.

A few awkward seconds pass, with Gokudera and him exchanging panicked, hysterical looks, but sadly, the universe does not oblige.

Tsuna sighs and loosens his death grip on the duvet, accepting this epic self-defeat on all fronts. "…Oh who am I kidding, yes, this is exactly what it looks like," he mumbles. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he stands up from the bed and shakily zips up his pants with as much dignity as a man caught cheating on his wife is allowed (that is, absolutely zero) and resolves to take whatever it is Kyoko's going to throw at him, because he's a dirty, lying scumbag who deserves to be drawn and quartered then stuffed into a car and thrown into piranha-infested waters—

Kyoko breathes out a sigh of what unbelievably sounds like _relief_. '"Oh thank goodness, I was wondering when this would happen."

Tsuna violent scenarios of death via Kyoko come to a screeching halt. "… You were wondering… You mean… huh buh what?" he sputters, feeling like the universe just sucker-punched him a second time. This isn't what happens in the movies! Where's the yelling and crying and launching of nearby projectiles?

"Tsu-kun," Kyoko says with a familiar, disturbingly placid smile, as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her. That's the thing with Kyoko, sometimes it's really hard to tell the difference between her 'I'm happy for you ' smile and the 'I'll happily see to your miserable demise, you dishonourable sod' smile. "It's really not unheard of for powerful bosses to have affairs. Really, I understand."

"But Kyoko…" Tsuna says, confusion and panic overwhelming him in inconvenient amounts as he scrambles for something, _anything_ to say, his mind flying off in different directions— _is she going to divorce me, will Onii-san castrate me, will Mukuro still want to possess my body if I no longer have serviceable testicles_— and settles on stating the obvious: "I'm pretty sure I just committed adultery."

Kyoko smiles at Gokudera briefly and walks over to her husband. "Don't be silly Tsu-kun. It's fine."

Tsuna stares at Kyoko's impossibly sincere eyes, which are the only things stopping him from convincing himself that Mukuro's out to play perverse unfunny tricks on him again. "Why are you not yelling at me like a normal person?"

"Oh Tsu-kun," Kyoko sighs, smiling ruefully as she sits beside him on the bed. She takes his hands, and squeezes them slightly, as if trying to impress the reality of her countenance on his unconvinced, disbelieving, fool self. "Look at it this way— say your favourite food is sushi. But you can't eat sushi everyday; sometimes you are craving good ol' steak."

Tsuna blinks at her. "…. I'm not entirely sure how this is related to Hayato's intentions to give me head."

"In my case, I love myself a hearty, meaty T-bone steak," Kyoko continues as if Tsuna has not spoken. "But too much steak is bad for my heart, and I need to supplement it with sushi too."

"Why are we talking about food?"

Kyoko just keeps talking. "As Hayato is your right-hand man, Haru's been my best friend growing up in this mafia business. We understand each other. We've undergone the same training under Lal Mirch and Bianchi. We share the same reverence for cake," she continues earnestly, moving closer and squeezing his hands tighter. "What I'm getting at is… apart from our marriage bond, we also need bonds between fellow men, and in my case, bonds between fellow women." She takes a deep breath and peers at him with her benevolent amber gaze. "Do you… do you understand what I'm saying?"

Tsuna nods slowly, and expresses his takeaway from all of these gastronomic metaphors with: "So Haru is… sushi?"

Kyoko nods encouragingly.

"And you like both steak and sushi…" Tsuna's Reborn-trained mind is now rapidly adding two and two and discovering that four is…. actually pretty damn hot. Kyoko and Haru huh, who would've guessed. He's pretty sure there are many questionable things in this loosely proposed arrangement but if Kyoko's suggesting what he thinks she is, Tsuna's not really in a position to object, considering that she caught Gokudera hovering over Tsuna's traitorous wang just scant minutes prior. "Well, I guess that's… acceptable."

Kyoko beams and kisses him on the cheek. "I knew you'd understand!"

Tsuna clears his throat. "So how did you figure out that Hayato and I…." He lets the sentence trail off, throwing his right hand man a quick glance, trusting Kyoko understands.

Kyoko does. "Oh Tsuna, remember that time in Paris when you told me that I just gave you the most mindblowing oral sex in your whole life?" she says with a short, demure giggle.

"Kyoko!" Tsuna hisses, face flaming. "Not in front of Hayato!"

Kyoko ignores him and right before Tsuna's eyes, winks conspiratorially at his right hand man. "Guess who gave me advice on how to do that?"

"…" Tsuna can only look at Gokudera incredulously, as Gokudera makes a valiant attempt to enter osmosis with the expensive Persian carpet.

"Hayato will explain it to you," Kyoko says sweetly, as she stands up and practically floats out the door. "Or better yet, _show _you."

The door closes softly. Tsuna takes a moment to convince himself that this is actually happening, and that he just didn't get transported to a parallel world where it's perfectly normal for wives to encourage their philandering husbands to engage in homoerotic hijinks with their terrifyingly obsessive right hand men.

"Tenth?" Gokudera whispers cautiously, inching closer and looking every bit the lost but hopeful puppy everyone this side of Italy calls him to be.

Tsuna takes a deep, calming breath. "So you really gave her advice for that?"

Gokudera goes adorably red again but his voice is firm when he says, "Yes."

There's a short beat of hesitance, as Tsuna carefully considers his life choices so far, and what this new one would entail. At worst, Mukuro's going to be a total smug bastard about this, he can feel it. At best… well, he gets both his wife AND his right hand man, along with express permission to do pornographic things with either of them without a guilty conscience.

"Well okay," he finally says, watching Gokudera's face light up like a solar flare, as he wastes no time in resuming his earlier position at Tsuna's feet. "I guess this could work out."

And that had been the start of T-bone Tuesdays.

~fin~

* * *

**Post A/N:** This one is just obscene and unforgiveable. I apologize for my terrible food analogies.

Next up, Crossover. Hope you guys are familiar with Tekken and Soul Calibur.


	3. CROSSOVER

3.) **Crossover** - Various fighting games from Namco and Midway (Now Netherrealm) 5927-ish and implied D80. As usual, this is unbetad, so do inform me of any mistakes. :)

* * *

"What do you mean the Tenth can't compete in the Iron Fist tournament; you let lawnhead's KANGAROO in— what kind of bullshit is this?"

The morbidly obese American guy sitting in the booth in front of him, whose nametag read BOB, (_Typical, _Gokudera snorted earlier) just chomps on what seems to be his seventh hotdog, judging from the wrappers strewn around the desk and the giant mutant amoeba that Tsuna surmises to be a blob of mustard sliding down his shirt. His buddy, this dark Brazilian man, who is donning a truly appalling sartorial combination of a massive afro, giant round shades and a psychedelic orange jacket, just shrugs and leans forward.

"Listen _gringo_—"

"The name is Gokudera, punk," Gokudera growls. "Call me gringo again and I'll stuff dynamite up your ass. Would you like that huh, Mr…" His livid tone takes a nose dive as he squints at the name tag, which reads Tiger Jackson/ Eddy Gordo. "Why the fuck do you have two names?!"

Bob, seemingly uncaring of the violent threats made upon his partner, just polishes off the rest of his hotdog before answering: "He's Tiger when he's wearing the 'fro. He's Eddy when he's sporting the dreads."

Another schizophrenic. Fantastic. Just once, couldn't Tsuna deal with someone who doesn't have some sort of personality disorder?

"Whatever," Gokudera says dismissively. "Anyway,_ Tiger_, if you think I'm letting you get away with refusing the Tenth, you've got—"

"Whoa, chill there Señor Gokudera," Tiger interrupts, arms and palms held up in a placating manner. "Your amigo's kangaroo was allowed because he's a handy substitute for Roger, who's currently out due to a pouch injury."

"What the fuck is a Pouch injury!?"

"Wait so you mean, you already have a boxing Kangaroo?" Tsuna asks at the same time.

"Of course, they've been around ever since Tekken 2," Tiger says.

Bob nods, and unwraps his eighth hotdog. "Your friend's Garyuu isn't the same but he'll appease Alex for a little while so he gets an easy pass."

"Who the fuck is Alex?" Gokudera yells, a vein throbbing dangerously on his forehead as he fumes at the lack of answers to his very relevant questions.

"The Boxing Velociraptor," Tiger answers.

Gokudera looks thunderstruck. "You let a _velociraptor_ compete and shun the Tenth?"

_Frankly,_ Tsuna thinks, as he struggles to keep himself from gaping stupidly, _we've got bigger problems than that._ For one thing, he doesn't know which is more surreal— that there's a _velociraptor_ (which has been conventionally described as a ferocious flesh-eating creature that would feel right at home in Hibari's limited lexicon of praise) in this time period or that it joins fighting tournaments and fights with boxing gloves. Or even the fact that it apparently chose to be friends with a boxing kangaroo instead of eating it.

Then another inane thought suddenly strikes him._ Nii-san is going to have a field day with this. _He wouldn't put it past Ryohei to recruit non-humans into his boxing club, as they would be an EXTREMELY unique asset. Not to mention that the club will be a shoo-in for all the team mascot awards and—

Tsuna shakes his head quickly, mentally pushing himself off this train of ridiculous thought. _Focus, Dame-Tsuna, focus! You need to enter a fighting tournament or Reborn will feed you to a pack of starved jackals. You have to keep your cool and prevent Gokudera from murdering anyone who causes you mild inconvenience. Like these guys. You already got boxing dinosaurs, surely things can't get any weirder—_

"Well we also have a fighting panda, her lovestruck suitor Grizzly bear, and an alien swordsman with a Japanese name [1]," Tiger says, with an expression that would've been completely earnest, if it weren't for those ridiculously huge shades. "This tournament is totally fly, man."

Tsuna sighs. Looks like he'll have to raise the already alarmingly high bar of his suspension of disbelief.

Gokudera's expression magically changes from incensed to excited. "Did you say _alien_?"

Oh, so now Gokudera's willing to let go of_ his_ suspension of disbelief. Figures.

"Yeah, here c'mon, I'll show you some videos," Bob says, fishing out his phone from a ketchup-spattered breast pocket, and Gokudera eagerly steps around the booth to look.

Before Tsuna can react, his phone chooses that time to ring, and grateful for the distraction from the sheer weirdness of this current argument, he walks a little bit away from the group and answers the call.

"Hello?"

"TSUNAAAA IT'S SO UNFAIR," Dino wails into his ear, and Tsuna has to yank the phone a good foot away to preserve his eardrums. "My first opponent was this tall chick with a huge rack, and dressed in what I'm pretty sure is a sling bikini made of STEEL [2], how the hell am I supposed to fight against someone like that?"

To be honest, Tsuna wouldn't know either. It would be quite difficult to fight seriously against someone whose description could easily match 80% of straight men's wet dreams. "Are you sure you went to the Soul Calibur tournament and not the Dead or Alive one?" he asks instead.

"Of course I'm sure, we're going after that huge scary sword with the eye right? The one Kyouya suspects to be possessed by a strange box animal?" Dino answers impatiently. "But wait, hold on— that's not all. So we fought in this scary room with this row of creepy suits of armour and a SHEER DROP CLIFF on the opposite side—where she did her best to throw me off by the way. And when I thought it couldn't get any worse, mid fight, her sword suddenly EXPANDED and turned into a WHIP with SWORD BLADES that go THROUGH THE FLOOR, and then, well, she totally kicked my ass."

Tsuna doesn't know whether to sympathize with Dino or top his story with a _"Yeah, but have you encountered a boxing dinosaur?" _and then realizes he really doesn't have the grounds to say that because he hasn't actually seen one. So he just goes with: "... Uh. Okay, well, I'm glad you're still alive Dino-san." Then after a hesitant beat, he adds: "Um, how about the others?"

Dino makes an exasperated half-sigh, half-whine noise and Tsuna just _knows _Dino is making a face at the other end of the line. "Well, Mukuro got himself disqualified when he cheated and summoned snakes and crows to push that hot Korean chick with the naginata [3] off the tower," he narrates. " Kyouya was actually blazing through his opponents, until he got faced with this tiny Southeast Asian chick who also wielded tonfa and moved like the wind and totally showed up Kyouya in the fancy moves department [4]."

Tsuna winces, as upstaging a person as insanely proud as Hibari Kyouya never leads to anything pleasant. "Uh-oh, did it piss him off?"

"Oh no! He actually got super excited—he had that beastly smile on, you know, similar to when he watches Big Cat Diary on Animal Planet," Dino reports animatedly, before his tone turns sour again. "And_ then_ Mukuro had to _ruin_ it by chucking popcorn on the stage and heckling the fuck out of Kyouya from the sidelines until Kyouya made that ticked-off, sulky bitchface and trapped himself and the girl in a reverse needle sphere to block Mukuro out. Now he's facing disqualification and technical charges, for instigating a fight in a non-approved combat stage."

"... Okay." Tsuna decides that it's for his own greater good to not ask for any more elaborations. "And Yamamoto?"

"Oh, Takeshi's doing well!" Dino says, in a much brighter tone. "He's now up against this Mitsurugi dude, and Squalo's so jealous because he's been wanting to fight that guy for eons, and now Takeshi's locking swords with him and—hey wait, what the hell—"

Tsuna has a bad feeling in his gut as Dino appears to have tripped, crashed into several previously whole and solid objects, and possibly rolled down a steep hill in his haste to get to whatever it is he's going. "Dino-san?"

"Ohmygod, that old guy just sliced Takeshi's clothes to pieces! [5]" Dino all but screeches, recovering inhumanly fast from his motor skills snafu.

"Uh…"

"And he's wearing that flimsy T-back!"

"…"

"Takeshi, not Mitsurugi I mean. Goddamit Takeshi, who the hell wears a T-back to a sword fight?"

Tsuna is_ really_ not interested in continuing this line of conversation.

"OH NO YOU DON'T! STAY AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND YOU CAGEY OLD PERVERT!"

There's a crunching sound, a clash of metal followed by zany music, and some random Italian exclamations, and soon, all Tsuna hears is the dial tone. He doesn't need hyper intuition to tell him that calling again will not yield any new results.

That and it'd make him very happy to never know how that situation ends. His big brother and his guardians are all grown men anyway so they should be able to handle themselves. Granted, they're grown men who more than often act like spoiled brats (e.g. Hibari and Mukuro) or happy-go-lucky airheads (Dino and Yamamoto) but grown men nonetheless. He has absolutely no reason to worry about their welfare.

Nope, not at all. So with his conscience sufficiently cleared, he returns his phone to his pocket, and strolls back to Gokudera's side, just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"… your little friend cannot enter dude, because this is a hand-to-hand combat tournament y'know, and there are no special powers allowed," Bob is saying.

Apparently, even aliens would not sway Gokudera from his self-imposed role in life to be the voice of righteous anger on Tsuna's behalf. Tsuna's kind of impressed. And touched.

"No special powers? I just saw this winged tattooed guy shoot lasers!" Gokudera fires back.

"Oh that's just Jin when he gets all emo; besides, he's practically the tournament owner so he gets special privileges."

Gokudera opens his mouth to no doubt heap more abuse on the two men, but Tsuna cuts him off, having seriously had enough of this whole clusterfuck of reality-bending.

"Never mind Gokudera-kun, let's just go cheer on Onii-san and Ganryuu," Tsuna whispers, clutching on to Gokudera's sleeve , and biting his lip pitifully. "I don't really want to fight anyway."

As expected, Gokudera immediately melts at this. "Okay, if you say so, Tenth," he says, and happily follows Tsuna, much to the other two guys' immediate relief.

They trudge away, wandering through the various stages and occasionally watching a few battles. True to Bob and Tiger's word, the iron fist tournament does have a menagerie of fighting animals (yes, including Alex, the velociraptor whose comical blue boxing gloves do very little by way of distracting Tsuna from those sharp, carnivorous teeth), all of which have moves that Tsuna thinks would impress even Reborn. And Leon. Leon would feel right at home in this circus.

They also watch the fights between regular humans who employed all sorts of deadly martial arts, ranging from aikido to taekwondo to some drunken kung-fu, which makes Tsuna momentarily grateful that he was actually denied entry after all. Especially after seeing this frail-looking, prissy rich blonde in a frilly dress [6] knock out this MMA fighter-like man built like a truck [7].

After watching Ryohei enthusiastically beat up a large, muscular android who looks like it's designed to crush tanks [8], they walk out of the fighting arenas to take a break and grab some refreshments.

Tsuna's has just taken one gulp from his soda when immediately, his hyper intuition flares up. Not one second later, a blast of sharp ice assaults them, which Gokudera manages to block just in time with his Sistema CIA, the shields barely holding up from the force. Tsuna's soda lay on the ground, frozen completely.

Tsuna's already in HDW mode when they meet face to face with their assailant.

Tall, muscular, and dressed in sleek blue and black ninja gear, the man looks like the embodiment of cold, swift death. His hands glow with a strange blue light, and Tsuna could see frost forming at the fingertips, awaiting his command. [9]

Gokudera's eyes are entrenched with a potent combination of disbelief and anger, a slew of ferocious insults no doubt forming at the back of his throat, but Tsuna, again, holds up a hand.

"Why did you attack us?" he asks, voice ensconced with the self-possessed calmness of his dying will.

The ninja takes one step forward, points a challenging finger in Tsuna's direction, and in a deep, rumbling voice, says:

"I challenge you to Mortal Kombat."

~fin~

* * *

**A/N:** DAFUQ did I just write. Haha, ohmygod I swear this all sounded funnier in my head.

Anyway, I just want to say that all succeeding genres moving forward will be interconnected and sequential. Also, they'll be shorter, so updates will hopefully be faster. I'm putting them up in pairs so I'll have exactly 7 chapters to this thing. Next up: **UST** and **Fluff.**

**Story Notes:**

[1] These are Panda, Kuma and Yoshimitsu. And yes, these are actual characters in Tekken.

[2] [3] [4] Dino's opponent was Ivy, Mukuro's opponent was Seung Mina and Hibari's opponent was Talim (their respective weapon counterparts, all chicks) . Four years ago, I was actually dorky enough to create a customized Hibari character in Soul Calibur 4 w/ Talim's moves and lol'd at his critical finish animation.

[5] In SC4, landing a powerful hit would likely result to the destruction of your opponent's clothes/armor. And yes, I've often seen my characters fight in nothing but their underwear.

[6] [7] [8] Lili, Marduk, and Armor Jack from Tekken.

[9]This guy is Sub-Zero, one of the original characters of Mortal Kombat.


	4. UST and Fluff

**A/N:** As mentioned before, all remaining genres (UST, Fluff, Humor, First Time, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Smut) will be written in sequential order to form one coherent fic following the canon timeline and into TYL.

* * *

**4.) UST**

Tsuna's been noticing a lot of things about Gokudera lately. They've always been close as a person completely devoted to another person's entire being could be, but there are still lines that have not been crossed. Unprotected, thin lines, but lines nonetheless. His best friend and self-proclaimed right hand man has always insisted in keeping a respectful distance, attributing it to deference, as befits Tsuna's station as his only superior.

But it's different now. It's like Gokudera's holding back, denying himself _something_; like he's only keeping himself at arm's length out of habit, but otherwise yearning to get closer.

And Tsuna finds himself wishing that he does.

It's the heart of summer, and the heat lies heavy over Namimori, driving them into the soothing relief of the local beach.

The line of Gokudera's shoulders are broader. Not as much as Yamamoto's—both Tsuna and Gokudera have always been on the slender side of things—but there they are, corded muscles now visible under the smooth expanse of skin, marred only by a few significant scars and burn marks. They're pale and glistening, sunlight reflecting off the rivulets of water dotting them.

Tsuna rests his hand hesitantly on Gokudera's shoulder, thumb tracing a long-forgotten scar, and watches the movement of Gokudera's muscles beneath them—first stiffening slightly, then relaxing for a brief pause, as if savouring the moment, before moving away with practiced ease, as he turns around to face Tsuna. "Yes Tenth?" he asks, bright and eager, but with an underlying current of what Tsuna can only surmise is longing, barely leashed.

Tsuna's breathing hitches slightly, fingers curling at the loss of warmth. He drops his hand to his side, sending salt water splashing between the two of them. In the moment between the first upshoot of water and the last drop, he's suddenly made hyper aware of the many details construing this moment—the briny tang of the sea breeze, the sound of distant laughter, the dark yellow of the afternoon sun and the pink-purple-orange-blue palette surrounding it.

And then there's Gokudera, profile silhouetted beautifully against the light, green eyes luminous and intent. His face holds that earnest, hopeful expression, like he's searching for something and always hovering at the edge of finding it, but expecting himself to fall short.

"Tenth?" Gokudera repeats, when Tsuna says nothing, and Tsuna's gaze is involuntarily drawn to the vee of Gokudera's hips, peeking out from the line of his low-slung swimming trunks.

Tsuna averts his eyes by pretending to shield them from the afternoon rays. "It's nothing," he finally answers, grateful for the steadiness in his voice, even as his heart is drumming a reckless speed beneath his ribs. He turns around and wades further into the sea, until he is neck deep under salt water, welcoming the immediate coolness it brings to his flushed body.

If Gokudera notices Tsuna's aberrant behaviour (and Tsuna is willing to bet that he does; Gokudera is the one person other than Reborn who has Tsuna's idiosyncrasies down pat, albeit in a much more rose-coloured light), he doesn't show it. Instead he calls out: "Tenth, the water gets deep really fast."

Tsuna tips his head back, simultaneously kicking up his legs to lie on his back, floating freely, palms facing the sky. "I'll be fine," he answers. The sun is hot on his face, but it doesn't scorch as much as the gaze he knows Gokudera is favouring him with. Tsuna turns his face slightly to meet that very gaze and smiles. "You're here, aren't you?"

There's a brief period of stillness in the air, as Tsuna stealthily watches the shifts of Gokudera's expression, the breeze ruffling his hair from his eyes.

The thing is, Gokudera is not the only one who's been paying close attention throughout these years. The only difference is, Gokudera does this by careful study—he reads people and comes to logical conclusions with regards to the pattern of their behaviour.

Tsuna's method is much less abstruse, having the unfair advantage of Vongola blood—he senses people and inputs them directly into his consciousness, bypassing all senses. It's how he can find Mukuro within the twisted labyrinths of his illusions, how he knows when Hibari hovers on the outer perimeter of their circle, unseen but present; it's how he can feel the thrum of Gokudera's unyielding loyalty like a physical thing wrapping around that beating muscle beneath his ribs. It's an illogical, inexplicable feat with a process unknown even to Tsuna himself.

The moment passes, and Tsuna can feel it again, the strength of Gokudera's faith igniting something within him. Part of him wants to say,_ I'm also here. You don't have to look so hard._ But Tsuna can't rush these things. And he is nothing if not patient. So he lies still and waits for Gokudera to find what he's looking for.

"Yes," he hears Gokudera finally answer, almost like a prayer, reverence and conviction ringing true in that one syllable. Gokudera moves then, the water sluicing past him as he surges closer. "Yes I am."

Gokudera's shadow grows longer across the deep blue green of the water, and Tsuna turns his gaze back to the sky.

He waits.

* * *

**5.) Fluff**

The sound of Dino's yelping, no doubt from his failed attempt to make fire out of two sticks (why he just doesn't use his sky flame, no one knows), is soon layered by Yamamoto's succeeding peals of laughter and Reborn's acerbic insults, but they all bleed into background noise, as Gokudera settles himself beside Tsuna on a smooth patch of grass on their makeshift camping site. The back of their hands brush as Gokudera lies down, and he stills for a second, waiting for Tsuna to pull away.

He doesn't, and Gokudera breathes a little easier, allowing himself this one selfishness and leaves his hand where it is.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking quiet pleasure in the balmy mountain air. There isn't a cloud in sight to cover the star-studded tapestry of the night sky. Gokudera observes and names the constellations in his head—Ursa Major, The Big Dipper, Canes Venatici, Centaurus—constellations that herald Japan's springtime.

A meteor streaks across the sky. Tsuna gasps and sits up, pointing at it excitedly. "A shooting star!"

_Shooting or Falling Star. A meteoroid that has entered the earth's atmosphere, creating a visible path as it burns and vaporizes_, Gokudera defines in his head. _Commonly employed in superstitious belief as an occurrence that may grant wishes and—_

"Did you make a wish, Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna asks, interrupting his train of thought.

Gokudera remains quiet for a moment, before replying with: "Do you really believe in that stuff, Tenth?"

Tsuna shrugs. "I don't know," he muses, as he flops back on the grass again and closes his eyes. "But it can't hurt, can it?"

_No it can't. But wayward rocks in space can't grant wishes any more than a coin thrown in a well can. There is no correlation, only superstition. If you want something, you take it. If circumstances prevent you from doing so, you change the circumstances. Stars and coins and candles do not grant wishes. Only other people can. _

_You can. _

These are the things Gokudera wants to say. But his personal tenets are not the Tenth's, and he can't let his cynicism infect the one person who still makes him believe in miracles. So, he just quietly murmurs: "If the tenth says so." Because always and forever, Tsuna will be the one exception to every rule Gokudera sets for himself.

He looks up to the sky again. Tsuna is quiet beside him, as if in contemplation, and Gokudera is again very much aware of the slight contact between the skin of their hands. He doesn't dare move a muscle.

"So did you make a wish?" Tsuna pipes up again, after a prolonged pause.

_No. _Gokudera's done with wishes. He has made many wishes in his life, and most were in vain. He wished to play the piano with his mother, and went home to news of her death. He wished to have a better relationship with his sister, and got poisoned by just one look at her face. He wished to be of use to his father's family, and got branded as an unwanted bastard.

There's only one wish he ever got, and it's the one he kept in the deepest, darkest corners of his heart, the one that never knew the touch of a falling star or the tiny flames of a birthday candle.

On that day, he almost killed the person who granted it.

So Gokudera never wished for anything again.

And yet…

Tsuna's hand is just there, nestled between blades of grass and dark red pebbles. Gokudera wants nothing more than to curl his fingers around it, feel the callouses formed by the harshest battles and grasp the palm that holds the weight of responsibility no sixteen-year-old should ever assume.

But he doesn't. Instead, for the first time in a long time, he closes his eyes briefly and makes a wish.

Almost instantly, Tsuna lifts his hand up, and Gokudera's heart plummets, until Tsuna lays his wrist directly over Gokudera's, sliding his palm seamlessly against his. Tsuna's fingers are dry and warm as they tangle with Gokudera's ring-decked ones.

"Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna repeats patiently.

Gokudera is punch-drunk with happiness. "Yes," he replies, taking great pains to hide the giddiness in his voice.

Tsuna turns to look at him, eyes widened inquisitively, crinkling around the corners. "Is it a big wish?"

Gokudera summons all his force of will to keep his movements steady, as he dares to squeeze Tsuna's hand. "Nah, my wish is simple really," he answers, his heart soaring when Tsuna squeezes back. The night sky isn't so interesting anymore. He has a better one right here, and _he's holding his hand_.

"Then I wish it comes true," Tsuna says, and this right here, is quite possibly the most beautiful moment of Gokudera's life.

"Me too," is all Gokudera whispers in response, before taking a deep breath and turning to look head on at the most terrifyingly kind eyes he's ever known.

_I just want you to mean me when you say home._

~tbc~

* * *

**Post A/N: **… I'm not sure if that second one counts as fluff but this is a genre I am utterly hopeless in, so I hope it's at least passable? Next up, _Humor _and _First Time._ As such, rating will change to M on the next update.

As always, reviews and concrit are appreciated!


	5. Humor and First Time

**A/N:** Mood whiplash in this update, as the tone of the first is very different from the second. Also, this chapter contains sexual content, though not as explicit as I would've normally written it to be, in compliance of FFN rating standards.

* * *

**6.) Humor**

The Batman thing was a joke. Really.

"Tsuna-san is too fluffy to be Batman," Haru says.

"Boss would look good in black spandex though," Chrome says, in a dreamy tone that makes Tsuna suspect Mukuro's indirect participation from somewhere in that mammoth brain space he shares with Chrome.

A joke. It wasn't even an original one. Haru had been talking about fashion as usual and mentioned that it's good advice to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. Tsuna, after having had his fill of western comics given to him by Dino to practice his English, humorously asked where to shop for a Batman costume, and naturally, everyone pounced on that like death from above.

"The Tenth could dress up as anyone he wants to be!" Gokudera argues.

"But Batman, really?" Yamamoto says, skeptical.

"Yes!" Gokudera insists, eyes glittering with what Tsuna thinks is terribly misplaced faith. "And if you ever dress up as Batman Tenth, I, as your loyal right hand man, will dress up as Robin!"

This of course, surprises no one, but it doesn't change the fact that Batman-Tsuna and Robin-Gokudera would be the triple-crown of mismatched cosplay decisions that has 'disaster' and 'endless supply of mockery from Reborn' written all over it.

Yamamoto laughs. "Even the version without pants?" he teases, and Tsuna, for all his patience and benevolence, fights down the urge to stuff a sock in Yamamoto's big and filter-lacking mouth.

Gokudera's expression is a hilarious mix of tremendous pain and homicidal intent but his voice is steady and clear when he replies. "Yes." He then looks Tsuna in the eye, gaze filled with utmost sincerity. "Even the one without pants."

There's a beat of silence that follows these words, as everyone else in the room reflexively comes up with the image of Gokudera decked in green hotpants and a yellow cape and subsequently attempts to kill it with mental fire. Tsuna is torn between being deeply touched or deeply mortified, or maybe a combination of both.

And then—

"That's the dorkiest confession I've ever heard, and I've lived through several lifetimes," Mukuro says, confirming Tsuna's dreaded suspicions as his male mist guardian now sits in place of Chrome, though Tsuna doesn't have the luxury of congratulating himself for his excellent guesswork when he has to step in quickly before a scarlet-faced and humiliated Gokudera can attack Mukuro with Haru's knitting needles.

Later, when Mukuro and Haru have been sufficiently distracted by Nana's chocolate truffle cake, and Yamamoto has been sequestered by an impatient Squalo, Gokudera bows low to the floor, blushing and stammering apologies for his audacious and hideously tacky declaration of love.

Tsuna just looks at him fondly, and after witnessing Gokudera's second attempt to concuss himself with the floor, he kneels down, grasps Gokudera's chin and says, "You don't have to dress up as Robin." Then he looks to the side, embarrassed but in a pleasant, fuzzy way. "But um… I'm more than happy to keep the pants optional too."

As it turns out, Gokudera's more than happy to comply.

* * *

**7.) First Time**

The first time happens when they're eighteen, in Tsuna's room in the Vongola HQ in Italy, after Tsuna has formally assumed the mantle of Vongola Decimo in a magnificent, formal affair that Gokudera spent weeks preparing for with a diligence bordering on fanaticism. His OC'd efforts were thankfully not in vain, as the ceremony now bears the distinction of being the second Vongola inauguration (after the time of Primo) that didn't have a body count at the end of the day, even with Hibari and the Varia in attendance.

There's wine in Tsuna's breath, as he laughs and pulls Gokudera close to give him a lazy, languid kiss, his hand tangled in Gokudera's hair.

"Come to my room tonight," Tsuna says, and doesn't ask, and Gokudera's blood pounds in his veins, because this is a direct order, one he cannot refuse, no matter what his wretched conscience says otherwise. Tsuna's eyes are happier than Gokudera's ever seen them, which is strange, considering how he's been against becoming the boss for so long.

"Yes," Gokudera says without hesitation, and lets the Tenth drag him along the corridors, bypassing an amused Reborn and catching a glimpse of Yamamoto's laughing fool self stumbling into what Gokudera's certain is Hibari's room.

Tsuna wastes no time once they slip into his quarters, the door barely closing behind them, when he leans in, mouth hot on the hollow of Gokudera's throat and Gokudera is so, so _hard_ it borders on pain. He rocks his hips once, twice against Tsuna, who's just as hard as he is, and makes what he will emphatically deny is a whine when Tsuna takes a step back, ceasing the delicious friction between them.

Tsuna laughs quietly, deft fingers undoing Gokudera's fly. "I got you," he whispers, and Gokudera groans, pleasure jolting up his spine, as Tsuna finally releases him from the confines of his boxers, the rough callouses of Tsuna's palm a familiar, welcome touch on Gokudera's cock. Tsuna tips his head back to kiss him again, tongue slick and sure as it tangles with Gokudera's. All those weeks of stress preparing for Tsuna's inauguration are now officially worth it.

Gokudera's own hands greedily skim down Tsuna's hips, before curving backwards to grab Tsuna's ass. Tsuna makes a pleased sound against his mouth, and breaks away to whisper in Gokudera's ear. "I want you inside me so badly. I've been waiting for _weeks_."

The words, combined with Tsuna's hot breath on his ear nearly drives Gokudera insane with _need _and had he been a lesser man, he would've taken Tsuna right there and then. But this is the first time, and it deserves the best Gokudera can offer."Tenth, we're still in the doorway," he manages to gasp out.

"Right, hold on a sec," Tsuna acknowledges distractedly but they manage to cross the room, in a complex backward dance that involves slamming each other a couple more times against more vertical surfaces until Gokudera finally steers them towards the luxurious king-sized bed.

Tsuna's eyes flash as he pulls Gokudera down with him, the mattress bouncing upon impact, and kisses him once more. The next several minutes are a blur, as they lose their clothes and revel in the feel of each other's skin, light, fleeting touches becoming hotter and more urgent as the minutes tick by.

"Tenth, please..." Gokudera pleads, because any more of this teasing and he really thinks he would die. Tsuna nods wordlessly, and reaches out to the bedside table to get the necessary items for this task.

They've done this many times before, losing themselves in the slide of each other's sweat and skin, but they've never breached this line. Until now. Gokudera is restless, energy thrumming in his veins, as it takes all the willpower he possesses to keep himself from losing it when Tsuna's breathing turns sharper, as Gokudera carefully, methodically, prepares him for what would be another significant milestone in this relationship.

When Tsuna goes boneless and relaxed beneath him, Gokudera withdraws his slick fingers and settles himself between Tsuna's legs. "May I?" Gokudera asks, deferring to Tsuna to the very end, even as he lines up, Tsuna's thighs raised on either side of him.

"Yes," Tsuna replies, and ghosts his fingers on Gokudera's wrist. "I'm ready."

Gokudera closes his eyes, and pushes. He hears Tsuna suck in a breath, as Gokudera slides all the way in, and the feeling is nothing and everything he ever imagined it to be— like he's been doing this forever, and how it would never ever be enough.

When he opens his eyes again, Tsuna is smiling at him, warm and gentle, and so he begins to move then, deliberately, with a delicate balance of emotion and finesse. He's been waiting for this for so long, and he wants to make this last, wants to make this perfect for the man he will follow for the rest of his life. He angles his hips just so, and the sounds Tsuna makes are almost enough to destroy him utterly, but he reigns it in.

Tsuna digs his heels on the small of Gokudera's back. "Harder," he says breathlessly, his eyes hot and dark beneath his lashes. "Stop being so careful."

Gokudera stills for a moment, the lust he's been keeping in check simmering beneath his skin at Tsuna's dangerous words. "Are you sure?" he asks hoarsely, his grip on Tsuna's hips tightening. "I don't think I can control myself—I don't want to hurt you."

Tsuna just grins crookedly at him, then shifts his hips. "You won't," he says, confidence imbued in his voice, his countenance every bit that of a leader of an underground empire thousands strong, and none of the shy, clumsy person he used to be. "Don't hold back." Then, as if to emphasize his point— and who knew Tsuna could be this devious— he clenches down and Gokudera gasps at the sudden tightness around him. "That's an order."

The last of Gokudera's restraint breaks at these words, like a tightly wound coil springing in release. "As you command," he replies and obliges, abandoning all inhibitions and fucks his boss deeper, harder into the mattress, until he knows nothing but the pure heat and shocking pleasure lancing through his body. He cannot take his eyes away from Tsuna panting underneath him, wild hair spread over the pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets, face flushed and resplendent underneath the pale yellow of the lamp light.

As he feels himself coming close to completion, he wraps his fingers between Tsuna's legs and pulls lightly, thumb brushing over the slit, and just like that, Tsuna's spine arches, eyes glassy and unfocused, lips parted in a wordless moan, as his body goes tight with the force of orgasm. The sight of Tsuna's expression alone makes dark fire rip through Gokudera, and he thinks, _this is what it means to live,_ as he follows, release slamming out of him with a final snap of his hips.

He spends a minute to catch his breath, before disengaging, and settling himself beside Tsuna, who readily curls around him like a cat, spent, cooling sweat dappled on their bodies. He turns to look at his boss, who gazes drowsily at him, eyelids drooping as sleep begins to claim him.

"Buona notte, Hayato," he whispers, and is asleep in seconds.

Gokudera studies Tsuna's vulnerable face with a tenderness he never knew he possessed, contentment washing over him. For once in his life, he believes that happy endings do exist, that he's allowed to have something that should, by all rights, be far beyond his reach. All his life, he's broken more things than he has fixed, and lost more things than he has kept. But he's ready to lose everything, ready to break all else if he only has Tsuna.

Gokudera inhales Tsuna's scent— a heady mix of musk, citrus, and clean sweat, and tightens his arm around him._ "_Buona notte, Tenth."

~tbc~

* * *

**Post A/N**: Okay, so obviously, I cannot stop infusing internal Gokudera angst in anything I write in his POV that isn't humour. Well, next up is the real angst genre (my second favourite genre after crack) as well as Hurt/Comfort. So yeah, be prepared for loads of 'not happy' next update.


	6. Angst and Hurt-Comfort

**A/N**: Oh wow, this update is so delayed. Sorry about that- I had to shift my writing mojo back to crack temporarily to update my other fic, and trying to write angst when you're still on a cannabis high is a highly unproductive venture.

* * *

**8.) Angst**

The thing about happy endings is, sometimes they do not last. Endings hardly do.

Gokudera has forgotten about the one thing that's more important than getting what one wishes for.

Keeping it.

"Lawnhead will be here soon," he says, as he presses his balled up suit jacket on Tsuna's wound. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixes with the coppery tang of blood, and Gokudera almost chokes on it. It's the stench of his failure, and it burns. "Please… just hold on." His voice sounds like it doesn't belong to him, tainted and coloured by too many warring emotions— fury, helplessness, terror, _denial_.

In his arms, Tsuna shudders and coughs out more blood. It's everywhere, soaking up his jacket, spreading on the floor like a dark red carpet. "Hayato," he rasps out. "You should be fighting with the others."

"The others are covering for us."

"You might get hurt sitting here."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Hayato…"

"Please," Gokudera pleads, barely containing the tremor in his voice. "Stay awake Tenth."

Tsuna coughs again, this time little clots of dark red, almost black, sliding down his chin, and Gokudera's insides turn into a twisted wreckage at the sight of it. "Hayato—"

"Don't speak. Save your strength."

Tsuna shakes his head. "It's too late for me."

"NO!" Gokudera practically yells, hysteria dancing on the edge of his voice. He takes deep breaths, and forces his shaking hands to still. His vision is getting blurry, and he angrily wipes his eyes, focusing them on the wound draining the life out of Tsuna's body, as if the force of his gaze would be enough to make it stop bleeding. "No it's not. Sasagawa will be here soon, Cavallone sent him on a helicopter—"

"—Hayato." Tsuna grabs Gokudera's wrist with a strength he should no longer possess. "Look at me."

It takes all of Gokudera's force of will to lift his gaze to stare straight into Tsuna's terrifyingly bright eyes, afraid of what he'll see in them.

But there is no reprobation in Tsuna's gaze, just the haunting calmness of acceptance and understanding—and this shatters Gokudera more than if Tsuna just blames him outright. "Don't be afraid," Tsuna says to him, his voice as clear as a summer day, as he reaches up and thumbs a stray tear rolling down Gokudera's cheek. "Everything will be alright."

_How can you say that?_ Gokudera wants to scream at him. _You've been shot. All I had to do was take that bullet for you and I couldn't even do that. I couldn't protect you. I failed. How could you think that ANY of this is alright?_ But he says nothing, and instead reaches up to keep Tsuna's hand on his face, desperate to keep Tsuna's touch for as long as long can still extend.

All around them is chaos, as the guardians who came with them strike back with a vengeance terrible to behold. Chrome's illusions strike unimaginable horrors into the minds of their foes; Yamamoto's tranquil flames turn into a siege of deadly blue, bodies piling around him like broken dolls; Hibari wreaks fields of devastation with every sweep of his arm.

But Gokudera cannot leave Tsuna, cannot let him go. Vengeance is not so important as this, for to seek vengeance right now would mean to leave Tsuna's side, and that is one thing he cannot do. Tsuna is still here, barely breathing, but still alive, and he said everything will be alright. Tsuna's words are absolute, so Gokudera, even with the weight of his failure threatening to crush every part of him, believes in it. He has to. He must.

Tsuna smiles brilliantly at him then, the fire of his dying will blazing like the sun, even as he bleeds.

His_ dying_ will. Gokudera doesn't have any words— he doesn't even have the breath to speak. He knows; _knows _what's going to happen next, but he can't look away, can't even blink, because he doesn't want to miss anything and this is the last—

The flame burns out, and the jewel of Tsuna's eyes turn dull.

Amidst the screams and cacophony of battle around him, Gokudera hears his heart breaking.

Everything happens slowly, like he's underwater. The outside world registers to him in muted colours, sounds wash over him like a wave. He's only vaguely aware of his arms, gathering Tsuna's blood drenched body against his own. It's still warm. Pale, but warm. His mouth is forming words, but no sounds come out. Which is just as well; saying it out loud will make it real, and Gokudera refuses to enter this impossible frame of reality where he is alive, and Tsuna is not.

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. Not that it matters. His chest feels like a depository of a thousand blades, and there is now a nameless void where his soul previously existed. There are no words for this; every language is silent. To call it pain would be an insult, for this void is so deep and dark that pain would be a blessing.

He looks back at Tsuna's face, the lifeless, empty gaze staring back at him.

No, pain is definitely not enough.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches up, tracing his fingers over the contours of Tsuna's face, crafting it into memory, before brushing the pads over Tsuna's eyelids and closing Tsuna's eyes. The significance of the gesture doesn't occur to him, until a blast of unknown flame hits him on the back, and he barely flinches. He is probably bleeding, if not sporting second degree burns, but they seem a distant concern.

The Tenth is dead. The world could end right there and then and he would not give a damn.

A shadow falls over him and he looks up to see Chrome fending off another attack meant for him.

"Pull yourself together," Mukuro hisses through Chrome's pale lips, as he methodically disposes of the White spell soldier. "You are no use to him sniveling like this."

"Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead," Hibari adds as he passes by, his voice ruthless and cold, a steel knife twisting in Gokudera's ribs. "His enemies live." The rest of his words remain unspoken, but Gokudera hears it like a blast of dynamite in his ear.

That's right. Hibari is a stone-cold, irreverent bastard who's never acknowledged the Tenth's leadership, but he's _right._ It's basic syllogism. The Tenth is dead. The guardians remain. Therefore it is illogical for Millefiore to remain standing.

For the first time, he lifts his gaze from Tsuna's form and surveys the carnage around him. They are outnumbered, Millefiore soldiers pouring in from every conceivable entrance, each downed soldier being replaced as quickly as he falls. With Hibari in attendance, it's still good odds for three Vongola guardians.

_No, not three, _he corrects himself._ Four. _

He doesn't pause to consider the irony of the fact that what spurs him into action are the words of the guardians with the most questionable loyalties. Gokudera slowly stands up, eyes hidden in the fall of his bangs.

_I am the storm. _

Wrapped around his hand, the cannon is a foreboding weight, and he charges it up, all five colors of his flames slotting into his boxes with elegant precision, a shadow of order amidst the chaos. Systema C.I.A.'s shields form around the Tenth's body, intrepid soldiers protecting their leader even after death.

_I am always at the heart of the attack, unrelenting, unceasing._

A wild, cornered beast, Uri surges and tears through the enemy with crazed ferocity, Gokudera's rage and despair reflecting off the strength of its flame and the blade of its claws.

_My flame is the flame of destruction. _

Pointing his weapon in one direction, he imagines Irie's Shouichi's face in the mass of soldiers, and fires, a horizontal column of annihilation cleaving everything in its path, leaving only ashes in its wake.

He has nothing left to lose. Tsuna is dead. What else can hurt him now? Millefiore already took his everything.

_And they shall pay._ Gokudera Hayato unleashes all of himself, flames dancing around him like a sacred ritual, and bathes the world in red.

* * *

**9.) Hurt/Comfort**

"Why Hibari?" Gokudera chokes out, fists shaking, like it's taking every ounce of his control not to crash them on something— the vase, the wall, Tsuna's nose.

"Because you will not let me die," Tsuna answers, and his voice is tremulous, begging forgiveness. "Because I needed to place my faith in someone who values something more than my life."

Gokudera looks stricken, like Tsuna just personally slapped him, and Tsuna knows what he's thinking.

_There is nothing more important than your life_, Gokudera's eyes scream at him, and Tsuna is painfully aware of how true this is, at least for Gokudera, his right-hand man who will readily give his life for Tsuna's, whose happiness is anchored to keeping Tsuna safe and whole.

Happiness that Tsuna forfeited when he chose to entrust his life to another. It was cruel, but it was necessary, and it was the only hope they had of saving their world from certain ruin.

But dying is easy, and Tsuna's "death" is hardly his greatest sacrifice.

This is.

The damage is done, and Tsuna can only pray that it's not irreversible.

"Do you know what I wished for that night under the stars?" he asks, not waiting for a verbal answer. Gokudera doesn't say anything, but he lifts his chin and acknowledges the question, deferring to Tsuna even as the pain of betrayal still lingers around his person like a shroud.

"I wished for a peaceful future," Tsuna continues, and casts his eyes on the framed picture of his Famiglia hanging on the wall, their smiles (and scowl, from one reluctant Cloud Guardian) now back to being the present reality. "No matter what it takes."

Gokudera's eyes flash. "You made me believe that you were _dead_," he says, barely leashed spite dripping in every syllable.

"I didn't have a choice. Hibari—"

"Don't," Hayato says, in a rare show of defiance. "Don't say it."

"Hayato," Tsuna pleads, and his heart breaks a little by the force with which Gokudera flinches from the sound of his name. "I did this for _you._ For all of—"

Gokudera'a fist comes flying and Tsuna reflexively closes his eyes, ready to accept the blow he more than deserves.

It never comes though. Instead, he feels the pads of Gokudera's trembling fingers touching his face, thumb tracing his jawline, forefinger brushing along his cheekbone. Tsuna's eyes crack open, and meets the storm in Gokudera's fevered green gaze. Gokudera's other hand joins the first, and there are fingers carding through Tsuna's hair, trailing towards the nape of his neck, and then squeezing slightly, desperately, as if Gokudera's convincing himself that this is real. That _Tsuna_ is real.

Tsuna grasps Gokudera's hands, stilling them, and turns his face slightly to brush his lips against the thin skin of Gokudera's wrist, Gokudera's pulse beating against the curve of his mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Gokudera loses it then, as he crushes Tsuna against his chest, and buries his face in Tsuna's hair, shoulders shaking with the force of his silent sobs. Tsuna feels his own eyes blur, and he returns the embrace, wanting nothing more than to get impossibly closer, and make up for the distance he had forced between them .

"I love you Hayato," he murmurs softly, and closes his eyes. No truer words were even spoken. "Please." His fingers clench around the fabric of Gokudera's suit. "Stay with me."

Gokudera's arms tighten around him, and they are warm and reassuring, the safest place that Tsuna's ever known. "Always," he whispers back, and Tsuna knows he is forgiven.

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**Post A/N:** Next update will be the last. So more smut, with bonus fluff because these two deserve it.:)

Reviews are appreciated!


	7. Smut

**A/N: **Real Life happened so this is late, and much shorter than the other updates. But I'm pretty happy with how this turned out, all things considered.

And now, without further ado, we come to the end.

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**10) Smut**

The room is just this side of dark, illuminated only by shards of lunar light, and the faint rays streaming from the lamps of the outside garden. Even half-shadowed, Gokudera's skin is all pale porcelain, though there's a rosy flush staining the column of his neck as Tsuna slides in, slick and familiar, his hands like temperate brands on Gokudera's hips.

"How do you want it?" Tsuna asks, and places a soft kiss on Gokudera's knee, simultaneously thrusting himself to the hilt, humming in approval when Gokudera gasps and goes taut beneath him. He knows what Gokudera wants, but he wants to hear him say it.

"Hayato?" he prompts, when Gokudera doesn't answer.

"Make it fast," Gokudera says so softly, Tsuna has to strain to hear it.

He readily complies nonetheless, his hips picking up a faster cadence. "What else?"

"Rougher," Gokudera answers, a bit louder this time, and scrunches his eyes shut when Tsuna takes Gokudera's cock in hand and fists it, short strong strokes that has Gokudera writhing in blind pleasure within seconds.

"And?" Tsuna presses, keeping up the steady, punishing pace.

Gokudera opens his eyes, reaches up behind Tsuna's neck and pulls him close. "I want," he whispers against Tsuna's lips, his impossibly green gaze smouldering beneath his lashes. "…to _see_ you."

Tsuna licks his lips and pulls himself up, dislodging Gokudera's arms and wresting back control. "Then," he says with a wicked smile as he plants one hand on the pillow and surges forward, pressing himself long and deep within Gokudera. He takes a moment to savour the gorgeous sight of those lips parting in unashamed bliss and those long, elegant fingers clawing at the sheets before leaning in and dragging his teeth along the shell of Gokudera's ear. "Should I light up the room, pull the curtains closed, and fuck you until we break the bed?"

"No," Gokudera replies breathlessly, spine arching as Tsuna shifts the angle of his hips and thrusts sharply. "Light up your will, pull my knees apart, break _me_."

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**11.) Fluff (?) V.2 **

Gokudera stirs from his sleep, as he hears the rustle of sheets and a familiar weight bearing down on the left side of the mattress. Today is the first time Tsuna's gone out on his own mission without any entourage, since the future's been restored. Gokudera had been at his wits end worrying and being twice as irritable, until Hibari dropped by his room and graciously knocked him flat out- probably at Yamamoto's behest.

He checks the clock. It's twenty seven minutes past two in the morning. He fixes his gaze on Tsuna's movements, eyes adjusting to the dim light, and silently watches him peel off his clothes, silk orange tie fluttering to the floor, followed by the crisp dress shirt. His eyes scour the imperfect skin of Tsuna's back, counting the all-too-familiar scars dotting the lean corded muscles beneath them. He is internally relieved to find that there are no new wounds to add to it.

"Tsuna," he says softly, when Tsuna finally lies down, bringing the sheets up to wrap around him. Gokudera thinks about the many things he should say- _how was the mission, how could you go without me, please don't leave without telling me again_, but settles on the simplest: "You're back."

Tsuna's shifts to face him, and spends a few moments just studying Gokudera, his gaze cloudy and unreadable. Then slowly, he reaches out, caressing Gokudera's cheek with his thumb, and Gokudera holds his breath. The curtains flutter from the open breeze, and moonlight falls on Tsuna's face, like a sheet of whitest silver, giving him a ghostly glow.

"No," he says so quietly, and for a moment, Gokudera is suddenly seized with a blinding terror, that everything has just been a dream; they never won against Millefiore; Vongola is still in ruins and the Tenth—Tsuna is still in that forest, lying in the black lacquered coffin with the white lilies, dead and never coming back—

Then Tsuna smiles, and it's like seeing the sun at night. He moves closer, brushing soft lips against Gokudera's forehead, and says:

"I'm home."

~fin~

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**Post A/N:** And that's all folks! This has been an absolute pleasure to write, not to mention it makes me giddy to finally click COMPLETE. Here's to hoping I did this beautiful pairing justice. :)

Reviews and concrit are appreciated!


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